


Thou Shalt Not Take The Lord's Name In Vain

by LestatDeSade



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Blasphemy, Blowjobs, Church Sex, M/M, Priest Kink, Roman Catholicism, School Uniform Kink, Uniform Kink, evil noblemen behaving badly, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 17:19:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10926450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LestatDeSade/pseuds/LestatDeSade
Summary: Vincent Phantomhive is a kinky son of a bitch.





	Thou Shalt Not Take The Lord's Name In Vain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kickcows](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kickcows/gifts).



> This is a tribute to kickcows. :) I really love their VinRich fic “Sinful Misbehavior” , and you should read it too!!! They are here on AO3 and they are fantastic. <3 I've always thought Vin and Dee having church sex would make a fantastic story and kickcows does such a fantastic job with their fanfic that I thought I would write my own church sex homage to them.

It was their old stomping grounds, the place where they had met, fought, united, and graduated from. This was Weston. Elite boarding school for the rich and famous, right off the river Thames. It was closed off to the public with the exception of their yearly cricket tournament. However, trouble was brewing inside of the campus, perhaps the result of relative isolation and cabin fever. So, naturally, they called in alumni and detective extraordinaire, Vincent Phantomhive. And what was Vincent without his faith sex slav-, no, servan-, dog- no. Assistant. Yes, assistant. That's the word. “Assistant”. Diederich had taken a long train ride through Germany, and France, then a boat ride to England, and a carriage ride to Weston. He had not slept in days. What he really wanted right now was to eat a sandwich and then collapse unto a soft mattress. But no. What he got was two cups of espresso and Vincent greeting him at the gates of Weston with a smirk on his face.

“Good evening, Diederich,” Vincent said. He was wearing his old Weston uniform. His elegant frame still fit in the weston uniform. His face had not yet aged enough, he could still pass for a teenager. When put in the uniform, Diederich had noticed the youthful glow of Vincent's features. A glow that he did not usually have, Diederich guessed that he was probably wearing make up of some sort.

“Phantomhive,” Diederich said.

 “Let me brief you on the case, but first, we need to get you into a uniform,” Vincent said.

 “Unlike you, there is no way I would fit into my old uniform,” Diederich said.

 “Well obviously we can't all be blessed with my ethereal beauty, have you ever tried moisturizer, by the way? That's aside from the point. Instead, you will be wearing this,” Vincent said, brandishing a black cassock. Custom tailor made to hug the curves of his muscular frame by none other than Nina Hopkins. Who else would ever encourage such a thing?

 “T-that's blasphemous!”

 “Come, come, Dee. To the chapel we shall go!” Vincent grabbed him by the arm, and in the other arm he carried the priest's uniform. It was just like old times, them walking through the weston campus after hours. Vincent swore he could even hear the faint sound of a violin playing after curfew coming from the swan gazebo, and the ever self indulgent sighs of a blonde. It was pure nostalgia running through his veins.

 The sun was setting, the inside of the church was colored by the sunlight filtering through the stained glass windows. They were alone in the church. Diederich stripped off his forest green military jacket and pants. Vincent watched him slip on the tight clothing of a priest with a certain feeling of glee. Thoughts of taking the cassock right back off of him using only his teeth flooded his wicked mind. Diederich buttoned the coat while making direct, constant eye contact, the piercing gaze of his deep brown eyes. Vincent could feel himself melting just a little bit on the inside. After all, an evil nobleman must surely be accompanied by wicked thoughts, and what more wicked a thought than the social taboo of pure, unadulterated blasphemy.

 "Just one more thing,” Vincent said. He pulled a rosary out of his pocket and draped it around Diederich's neck. He held the crucifix in his hand, looking down at with a pensive gaze, then looking towards the confessional booth, and back to Diederich's cold gaze.

“Get in the confessional box.”  
  
It took Diederich a few seconds of thinking why Vincent would want him in the booth before exclaiming, “Oh my god, Vincent! You can not be serious!”

“Thou shalt not take the lord's name in vain,” Vincent teased.

“You are a vile man,” Diederich told him.

“I want to suck you off in that confessional booth while you pray for salvation,” Vincent told him. Diederich kept a straight face.

 “Fine,” Diederich said. He was only human, and really, nobody would turn down a blow job from Vincent Phantomhive, the most beautiful of evil aristocrats. Especially not in that uniform, with the sexy curves of the tailcoat accentuating his pert ass and thin limbs. Plus, it was a cold day in hell when Vincent actually cared to get him off. He might as well take his chance while he had it because goodness knows, it's been a few dry months since Diederich last had an orgasm.

 Vincent led him into the confessional booth, pulling him along by the crucifix of the rosary. Diederich sat in the booth. Vincent closed the door behind them and knelt on the floor. It was close quarters. Vincent smelled like expensive lavender, bergamot, and musk mixed together by a professional perfumery located somewhere in Paris. His breath was hot and minty. When he kissed Diederich, there was the faintest taste of silver needle tea. He was ever elegant and graceful, even while he unbuttoned Diederich's trousers.

 “I can see past that cold expression, I always know what you really desire,” Vincent said. His voice was so smooth and melodic, like the calling of a siren far away from the shore.

 “Tell me, what is it?”  
  
“You've never been on the giving side of our little adventures in adultery,” Vincent reminded him. “I wonder, Dee, how many times when you had screamed at me when we were quarreling teenagers, did you imagine me kneeling in front of you, giving it to me hard, making me pay for my insolence.”

 “Vincent...”  
  
“I know you want me, and you want to know a secret, love?” Vincent asked. He grabbed the cravat tied around Diederich's neck and looked up at him with ice blue eyes. “I want you even more.”

“Unbutton my pants and repent for your sins, Phantomhive,” Diederich said. His voice was a false sort of cold. He was playing a role, after all.

“Of course, Father Weizacker,” Vincent said with a wink. Diederich was getting far too turned on by seeing Vincent in that school uniform. He felt ashamed, for a second, and then he felt the cool air on his exposed cock and a hot, wet tongue sliding from base to tip, polishing him with spit. He made the sign of the cross across his chest, and Vincent let out a chuckle.

“I'm such a sinner, father, I've thought of horrible things, whatever shall I do?”  
  
“Fuck me,” Diederich groaned.

 “Is that a fuck me, or a _fuck me_?” Vincent asked him. He knew the answer. Vincent took Diederich's cock in his mouth and sucked him off. 

“You're the sickest pervert, aren't you?” Diederich asked him, glancing down at Vincent's face, the corners of his mouth covered with semen. Then he looked away, feeling as though he had run his nails against a fine oil painting, ripping off layers of paint and beauty to expose white canvas beneath it.  
  
“You love it,” Vincent said, dabbing at the corner of his mouth with a silk handerkechief, one which his wife had painstakingly hand embroidered with Vincent's initials.

Diederich buttoned his pants and they left the confessional booth as though nothing had happened at all, as though they were simply in there to enjoy idle conversation. “That was acceptable, Phantomhive. I hope to see you in church tomorrow morning, I heard they're looking for a new altar boy.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Outtake:  
> “I can see past that cold expression, I always know what you really desire,” Vincent said. His voice was so smooth and melodic, like the calling of a siren far away from the shore. 
> 
> “Tell me, what is it?”
> 
> “A sandwich.”
> 
> With that, I will leave you!!!!


End file.
